Inner Man
by owlcroft
Summary: The day after the Halloween party in "Never My Love". Who knows what evil lurks in the azaleas?


A/N: Thanks to both my faithful betas, who never fail to encourage, support, and demand my stories.

INNER MAN

by

Owlcroft

McCormick gave a start of surprise then a muttered exclamation. As he bent to pick up something behind the azaleas, the judge, sitting to one side at the patio table, looked up and then unconsciously echoed him.

"What the hell?" Hardcastle put down the file folder and started to push back from the glass-topped table. "Is it dead?"

"It's a Beatles wig. Remember the guy who came dressed as Ringo?" McCormick put the sodden mass of hair in the trash bag on the sidewalk and frowned at it fastidiously. "I don't remember seeing him leave."

The judge frowned right along with him. "That was Dickie Stark. I hope he's not out there under the bushes somewhere."

"Nah, I checked this morning, first thing." Mark turned back to his search for mislaid items from the Halloween party of the previous night. "We're gonna need another bag for trash soon, but there aren't too many things that need to go back to their owners so far."

Hardcastle grunted in response, out of agreement or irritation or a combination of the two.

McCormick continued to comb the bushes, finding no additional detritus. He then moved on to the far side of the pool, dragging the trash bag and the "Return to Owner" box with him.

"Ooh, look here." He held up two bright yellow plumes, still damp with dew. "Wonder where _these _came from." He chucked them into the bag, then straightened up completely, stretching his back. "That lady really wanted to be your _chick_, Judge."

The judge lifted an eyebrow, not allowing a smile to form. "Well, she sure laid an egg if that was the idea."

A snorted chuckle was the response, then Mark bent back to the search.

"Sorry you didn't get to dress up," was the next remark from the older man. "You coulda put on your flame-proofs and helmet, ya know. Or something else if you wanted, some kinda costume."

"What could I have been, one of the guys rowing you to shore?" McCormick snorted again.

"Huh?"

"George Washington, crossing the Delaware. You were the guy standing in the front, and I woulda been one of the bozos rowing the boat." Mark shook his head as he plucked up a piece of clothing draped on the wrought-iron fence. "Look at this. Don't people have any sense of . . . modesty? Or behavior?"

"Decorum," suggested Hardcastle. "And, no, they don't. Not after a coupla mugs of my punch." He assumed a smug expression, then it changed to one more serious. "Whaddaya mean one of the guys rowing the boat? You'da been the guy at the back, steering. That's a mighty important job, too."

"Yeah, sure. I'd be sitting right next to the guy bailing. Now there's an _important_ job." Mark hesitated over which receptacle was appropriate for the underwear, eventually deciding on the bag since returning the item would show a lack of decorum.

The judge considered for a moment then offered, "Tonto? Or is that maybe a little obvious?"

"I notice you didn't dress up like the Lone Ranger." McCormick stopped his search briefly and pondered. "'Cause you don't need to?" He turned to face Hardcastle across the pool. "I mean, you're kinda _being _the Lone Ranger so you don't need to pretend at Halloween. Is that what people do, put on a costume so they can be what they dream about, just for one night?"

"Hmm. Maybe. Some of them, anyway." Hardcastle rubbed the bridge of his nose thoughtfully. "Pete in those medical scrubs, for instance. His dad was a lawyer and made Petey go into the law, but he told me once he'd always wanted to go to medical school instead." He thought some more. "Or Alice Powers in that cowgirl outfit. She's always wanted to have a little ranch in the country, but she's got a whole family to support and that dream's gonna have to wait 'til she retires."

Mark leaned against the fence, folding his arms and looking out at the sunlight flickering on the ocean. "Guess we're the lucky ones, huh? Getting to live our dreams, even if it's just for a little while." He shaded his eyes to watch a sailboat maneuvering toward the pier at the cove. "I did get to race for a while, even won a few, and you're getting to saddle up and ride after the bad guys."

Hardcastle cocked his head then nodded. "Yeah. I suppose you're right." He, too, stared out toward the dancing waves and the elegant sailboat, now tacking out to sea. "Maybe next year I'll be a ship's captain." He tossed an amused glance at McCormick. "You can be the crew."

"Nah. I've already decided on next year." Mark went back to searching the premises for assorted flotsam. "I'm gonna wear a three-piece suit with a fancy tie and carry a briefcase."

"Businessman, huh? Executive type, or CEO maybe?" The judge nodded thoughtfully.

McCormick smiled at the paper plate he was stuffing into the trash bag. "Something like that, anyway."

_finis_


End file.
